


First Add Caf

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bottom!kylo, First Time, Fluff, M/M, top!poe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:45:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6422572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pilots are the worst. Or the best. Kylo isn't sure, but there's one pilot in particular who drives him crazy: Poe Dameron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Add Caf

The thing about pilots is they are both wonderful and terrible in about equal measure. Wonderful, because they have that sense of _vibrancy_ about them. They live life on the edge of safety, skittering around with their hearts full of mission and their blood filled with adrenaline. It makes them faster, Kylo thinks. As if the appreciation of how fragile and ephemeral their time in the galaxy is makes them throw themselves full-throttle into everything: wringing every last drop of excitement, pleasure, or fun from the world. 

They light up any room they inhabit, even without trying. They don’t even need to raise their voices, they just waltz in and everything re-arranges itself accordingly. Put a pilot in the mix and what was a pleasant conversation turns so very, very… _vibrant._

Or is it just Poe? Maybe his vision of fighter-pilots is coloured through the lens that is Poe Dameron. It’s difficult to say because… well.

Kylo has a crush. Whether he admits it to himself or not, he’s madly attracted to him - everything about him - and it’s becoming difficult to maintain his cool.

That’s the bad thing about pilots. They’re so compelling that you lose all access to reason. One minute, you’re the sensible, if reserved, son of Generals. You’ve seen both sides of the Force, seen the ranks of the First Order and the Resistance. Rose in both, and returned to your roots. You’ve faced down the supremest evil the galaxy has to offer, faced your _mother_ after that, and braved it all. Fought in wars of the mind and the right (or left) hand. You’ve travelled the galaxy from rim to hub, and known friends and enemies of all sorts. You’re tall, dark, elusive and complicated.

Then Poe Dameron walks in, and you fucking lose it, all of it. Chill, poise, composure, reason, ability to construct coherent sentences. All of it. He goes from barely speaking, but making his words count… to making fish-out-of-water faces. And _weird_ things happen with his tongue. And it’s all very awkward, and his clothes feel hot, and he basically wants the ground to swallow him up whole, please and thank you.

As soon as possible.

And what makes it worse is how damn _nice_ Poe is. It would help if he was a lingering, lurking bastard. That way, Kylo could just fantasise about very unhealthy (but smoking hot) sex, and jerk himself off in the shower, and he’d get it over and done with. Or maybe get drunk in his vicinity, have ill-advised sexual relations, and realise Poe was an asshole and that the emotional crap wasn’t worth the sex.

(Or, if he was really lucky, just get to bone him on and off, without the strings.)

But he wasn’t. Nope. Poe Dameron was the kind of man you didn’t bring home to meet your mother in case your mother eloped with him and abandoned your father and left you eating the vegetables in confusion and promising to do the dishes as you watched your entire family fall apart in front of your eyes.

Except he wouldn’t do _that_. He was too damn **nice**. He’d just make everyone love him, because he is like some kind of weird, flawless creature. He doesn’t seem to have a single cruel bone in his body, and his face is sculpted from some master craftsman’s hand in a drug-fuelled frenzy of inspiration. Kylo had tried very hard to find some flaw with him, only to come up empty. If anything, his worst sin would be that he was so good that you’d feel inadequate no matter what. He even managed to make _short_ look sexy. And as most people who were significantly shorter than Kylo didn’t draw his eye, that was no mean feat.

So he has to have him. Except. Well. Kylo has no idea _how_ you seduce someone so wonderful, or even how you seduce someone at all. The furthest he got with anyone was holding hands for ten minutes at a school dance once, and then someone had teased them and the girl had run off to go play with her best friend, and it had not been Kylo’s best moment. Or - to be more precise - Ben’s. 

Han Solo’s version of relationship advice didn’t bear repeating in polite company, he was way too old to ask his mother, and uncle Luke was single. So was Chewie. He really didn’t have anyone he could ask for support in his misadventure, and so he had to kind of… well. Watch a lot of holos and take notes. 

But the holos were _terrible_. They told him to do things like fight with him until they realised they were in love? What the hell kind of flirtation technique was that? Wasn’t he more likely to get punched on his oversized nose? If he didn’t fight Poe, he was supposed to have various misadventures, or be there in the background whilst Poe thought he loved someone else, then found out he loved Kylo all along. Which was **dumb as hell**. If he introduced a potential other love interest into the mix, _Poe would fall in love with them_ and Kylo would be forced to be thanked as the one who introduced them, at their wedding.

So. No. Thanks.

Also, he sort of wants it to be a _real_ relationship. And he doubts fictional ones like that are really very good. One looks borderline abusive, and the other looks dangerously fragile. If they could be so blind as to ‘almost’ love the wrong person, who was to say they’d then be secure with the next paramour?

Caf. That’s what he needs to do. Ask him for some caf. It’s the usual thing, isn’t it? And sometimes friends or colleagues go for caf. So. He can do that, and if Poe doesn’t show any interest, he can laugh it off as just a stimulating beverage and someone wanting to shoot the breeze about the good old days on Yavin IV. Yep.

Kylo rehearses the words in his head over and over, so they come out right. 

_Hey, Poe. I was wondering if you’d like to grab some caf, sometime, maybe, please, oh Maker what am I thinking why wou–_

No, stop that, he tells himself. Normal. Make it sound normal. Simple. Rational. It’s just **caf**. He says it over, and over, and over. By the time he gets Poe alone, after a meeting, the words have ceased to hold meaning and are just a garbled collection of sounds. His palms feel sweaty, and his lips too fat, and his whole body screams _run_ as he asks way, way too fast.

“Sure!” Poe says, without any rehearsal, or even the slightest pause.  


Kylo realises he never thought of what to say _next_ , and his mind blanks like a frozen navicomp. “Oh. Uhm. Cool.”

“…tomorrow? Bout three?”  


“…y-yes.”  


“Commissary? Or you got somewhere else in mind?”  


Poe is now organising their date, because obviously Kylo can’t even arrange for caf. Maker, have mercy. “Commissary is good for me,” he says, nodding too many times. Damnit.

“See you then,” Poe says, and claps a hand on his arm as he leaves.  


Kylo turns bright red.

Damn.

***

They sit in the commissary with their awful mugs of caf, and Kylo is trying _so damn hard_ to be interesting and appealing. He’s supposed to woo him, or at least make it obvious he would quite like to woo him, or something.

But Kylo doesn’t really know how small talk goes.

_Hello, I was good, then I was evil, now I’m sort of good again, so I can tell you what the average shower temperature is across both sides of the war, and I really like watching people fly could I watch you fly you fly don’t you I mean oh crap it isn’t just flying you do I am sure you do other things but fly and–_

A lot more happens in his head than happens in his mouth. Which is probably for the best. 

_So you’re the one who blew up the Starkiller, huh? I nearly died, but I’m glad you did, even if I wasn’t then, and–_

This was the worst idea in the history of ideas. This is up there with ‘wow look I spent three weeks inventing fire, I wonder what happens if I put it in water?’

“Do you think my mother really just picks planets that are as close to Yavin IV as possible?” he says, instead.  


“Well, did you ever go to Hoth?”  


“Once.”  


“Would you go back?”  


“I guess not.” Poe has a point, but also that’s sort of the end of that line of conversation. He runs his tongue over his lips.  


“You fancy going… maybe for a walk in the woods? For old time’s sake?” Poe looks so innocent when he asks, except maybe not.   


A walk. In the woods. With Poe. “Y-yeah. Like… the good old days?”

“Exactly!”  


“I’d love to.”  


***

They ditch the sloppy remains of brown liquids and Poe grabs his jacket and Kylo walks with him out and away from everyone, and everything. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he wonders if Poe can tell. They walk through the first few trees, and Kylo listens to the way the leaves and twigs crunch underfoot, and he feels… a bit better. 

“You remember when you got stuck up the tree?” Poe asks.  


“…I didn’t think you’d remember that,” Kylo replies, chagrined.   


“I kept telling you to jump, but you wouldn’t. And then you did, and–”  


“I… landed on top of you, and tore your pants and nearly sliced your leg open, and my mother was furious with me,” Kylo finishes. “I remember.”  


“It was my fault for making you jump.”  


“It was my fault for climbing up there in the first place.”  


“Why did you?”  


Kylo looks at the trees here. He could scale them with ease, now, with the Force. Could push them over, too. “I think you know the answer.”

“Maybe I want to hear it?”  


Bastard. Okay, so he did have bad traits. “I was trying to impress you.”

“I knew it!” Poe crows that out, and Kylo winces.  


“I was, like, seven.”  


“So?”  


“…you can’t hold that against me,” Kylo huffs.  


“Okay. So. Climb that tree, now, then.”  


What on… “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Poe’s eyes glitter, and that sends a weird sparking heat through him.  


Kylo looks around, then (begging the Maker to let this work, and be a good idea) he leaps up and all but walks up the few steps to the lowest branch, grabbing it in both hands and spinning around and up and landing on it.

And looking down to see Poe clapping furiously. 

Kylo blushes.

“Can you help me up, too?”  


“…if you insist.” Kylo moves to lie flat on the branch, and offers his hand. Poe jumps a few times, but he can’t quite make it.   


“Damnit! You and your long legs!”  


“Hold on… do you trust me?”  


“Of course.”  


“Don’t move.”  


People are less easy to levitate than objects, but Kylo still manages. Poe wobbles in curiosity, threatening to break his control, and then their hands clasp around one another’s wrists, and he hoists Poe up into the tree with him. They shuffle, and end up both sitting on the branch, watching the shadows move slowly across the floor of the woods. 

“So… was this a date, or not?” Poe asks, eyes straight forwards when he does.  


“Would you have come if I said it was?” Kylo asks.  


“Course I would.”  


“…then… yes?”  


Kylo watches as mischievous brown eyes flicker to his face. “Not bad, for a first date.”

“So… there can be a second?”

“If you can top this. Dunno if you can, though. Will need work to beat commissary coffee and a tree.”

“I’ll think of something,” he says.

But mostly he can’t think of anything but the fact this is their _first date_.

The conversation goes a bit easier, after that.

***

Date two involves a holo, and a really badly cooked pasta dish that Poe pretends is nice until Kylo tells him to stop pretending, and then they mutually agree to open the box of chocolates from some minor celebration or another that’s sat on the kitchen counter for months, and add those to the icecream to ensure enough calories are consumed.

Kylo doesn’t even think it went badly, when the books are balanced.

Date three is Poe’s turn. He drags Kylo out in a small shuttle, performs maneouvers that the ship _probably shouldn’t_ , and then he has it hovering over a lake with the boarding bays open so they can eat their picnic and watch the water splash a few feet below them.

Kylo thinks Poe is better at this dating thing than him.

Date four is cancelled ten minutes in due to an emergency where Poe’s piloting skills are needed, and Kylo worries throughout the whole time he’s gone.

Date five is the next day, and Poe’s eyes are dark, sad, and not like Kylo is used to seeing them. It makes him a little afraid, and a lot sad. Poe isn’t supposed to ever be upset, and  Kylo remembers that a pilot’s life is close to death.

Date six is the big one, Kylo thinks. He manages to cook something actually edible, and he gets the holo, and he puts music on, and the talk wanders from the merits of new advancements in holo-call technology, the skills of the new recruits Poe has, the best Force ability that exists, the best one that doesn’t, but should, and what colour Poe’s lightsaber would be. It goes so well that, when it’s over, he hardly realises that they’ve been sitting knee-to-knee for some time on the couch.

He just feels so happily buzzed from the wine, and from the company, that he bounces slightly as they talk, and the hand on his knee is nice and warm and pleasant and he - oh. OH. Poe is leaning in for a kiss, and! And! Abort! Abort! No, wait… kisses are good? Yes! Kisses!

Kylo closes his eyes, and parts his lips, and then opens them when nothing happens and–

Shit. Poe had been reaching for the popcorn. Kylo feels his face go bright red, and he resists the urge to run and throw up, and instead decides to go for suave (or close enough) and grabs Poe’s shirt, and steals a damn kiss anyway.

Poe doesn’t resist as he’s pulled in, and Kylo’s nose bumps his, and then he’s twisting his head to find his lips, and there’s popcorn dust on Poe’s lips and it’s a weird, grainy sensation over soft, full lips, and Kylo mouths awkwardly against him, before letting go of his shirt and pulling back.

“Had enough?” Poe asks.  


“…wasn’t sure if…”  


“For Force’s sake, Kylo, kiss me already!”  


Kylo does not need telling twice. He turns properly, now, and leans in. He puts a hand around the back of Poe’s neck, his thumb sliding over his nape, and this kiss is more measured. He doesn’t know how you kiss, other than that lips touch, and when Poe’s lips part he parts his in response. He tries to follow Poe’s lead, as he does bizarre things where he bites with his lips, and then there’s a flicker of tongue against his inner lip, and then Poe breaks it, his breathing fucked to hell and back.

“Was that your first kiss?” Poe asks.  


Kylo hates that it was, but also doesn’t. It means the first one was special, and it means the first one was Poe. He nods, and hopes Poe won’t judge his lack of experience.

“It was nice,” Poe enthuses, and he sounds like he means it. “You can kiss me more, you know.”  


So Kylo does.

***

Once Poe figures out Kylo’s new to this - or, once it’s confirmed - he becomes super-attentive. Which is weird as hell. Like, whatever they do, Poe goes out of his way to at least say one compliment. And what’s worse? He’s _sincere_. He **means them**. He apparently finds Kylo’s awkward nerves to be _endearing_ , instead of off-putting. Maybe it’s a refreshing change for him to date someone who has the social skills of a deaf, dumb and blind nerf. Maybe it inflates his ego, some, to be involved with someone who is such a charity case. Maybe his clumsy attempts at wooing make Poe feel better about his own.

Kylo coasts on an average of two Poe-related anxiety attacks a day.

They’re dating. They’re a couple. Poe and him. Poe and _Kylo_. A couple. Official. Holding hands in public official. (And then letting go when people come close, and grabbing again when the other people pass, but Kylo is _trying_.)

Kylo is simultaneously elated and terrified beyond compare.

And they haven’t - you know - done _it_. At all. There’s been a few times when the making out has gotten so steamy that Kylo had to think about cold showers not to grab his dick and rub it in front of Poe, as that wouldn’t be classy. He doesn’t know when is an appropriate time to suddenly start seducing your boyfriend (hah! Poe is his boyfriend!), but he eventually decides enough is enough. 

He’s getting laid. He so is, as long as Poe agrees. He has no reason to doubt he will.

So he invites Poe over, and when the door opens and Poe’s eyebrows reach for orbit, he thinks maybe he went a bit far.

He’s three sheets to the wind on Corellian Courage, there’s a rose between his teeth, the shirt he’s wearing is sheer and leaves nothing to the imagination, and his pants are loose and flowing and _oh fuck he dressed like a cheap whore didn’t he_? 

“…this was a mistake,” he mumbles, around the rose.  


Poe walks in, slams the door shut behind him, and arches up onto the balls of his feet. Hands on the slinky shirt - fingers finding his nipples and tweaking - and when Kylo’s mouth opens in shock, Poe catches the flower between his own teeth, then grabs Kylo’s hands and starts to dance him to the mood music he’s playing.

Kylo blushes as red as the rose, and buries his face in Poe’s neck as they sway. “I’m sorry,” he says, quietly. “I just… I wanted to make it good for you.”

The rose is removed, and pushed into his hair, behind his ear. There’s no thorns, but it stays in with the natural wave of his own hair. 

“If I got you, it _is_ good,” Poe insists. “I was going slow because you’re…”  


“…a complete and utter idiot?”  


“New to this.” Poe continues to dance him, and Kylo enjoys it more than he should. “Are you sure, babe? You sure you’re ready?”  


“Yes! Yes. I mean. If you are. I… yes.”  


So eloquent.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” Poe suggests, and Kylo agrees.  


***

The kisses continue, as they sit on the edge of the bed. Kylo resigns himself to not having a clue, and Poe seems fine to lead, so Kylo goes with that. He puts his own hand on Poe’s thigh, and he purrs into the kiss as the slinky shirt is rubbed against his skin by wandering fingers, until Poe is pushing it up and it’s then over his head and off, and he feels _naked_ , even though Poe could see through the damn thing. Fingers tease at his shoulders, his collar, his flank, his nipples. Soft, caring touches and Kylo _burns_ under them. 

Poe pauses, then, kissing him and pushing fingers through his hair as they do. He murmurs soft words of encouragement, and Kylo _aches_ when he hears them. They tell him he’s beautiful, so beautiful, and he doesn’t believe he _is_ , but he believes that Poe believes, and that’s enough.

He feels the way his bare skin brushes over Poe’s clothing, his nipples standing to stark attention, and he reaches for Poe’s collar and starts some undressing of his own.

“Yes, good,” Poe praises him, still combing through his hair, foreheads touching. “Love your fingers on me, babe. Love the way you touch me.”  


Which is currently ‘not very much at all’. Kylo bites his lip and lets his hands glance under the open fabric, echoing Poe’s earlier touches. More murmurs, more encouragement, and it means he doesn’t feel the need to bolt quite so badly. Poe’s skin is warm and soft, and Kylo pushes the fabric out of the way. They shrug Poe out of his shirt, and then Kylo sits back a little to admire his - his…

…lover. The word feels heavy in his mind, and he smiles. Poe is glorious under his clothes, of course. All warm, sun-gold skin. There are few marks that mar his torso, and he’s nothing like the pale, battle-marked Kylo sitting next to him. Sun, to moon. Day, to night. 

Which is when he realises that Poe is looking at him, too, with open appreciation. Kylo doesn’t know why, because he’s pale, and weirdly shaped, and basically just a mess. He watches as fingers reach out - asking permission - before following the planes and lines of his frame. Blood rushes wherever he touches, turning the skin briefly pink, and then ebbs in the wake, like Poe is a magnet and he can’t help but react.

“You are so gorgeous,” Poe tells him. “You are. So fierce, and so strong, and so gorgeous.”  


Kylo feels like _none of the above_ , but he smiles anyway. “Flatterer.”

“Truth-teller.”  


Kylo’s eyes slide down over Poe’s torso, and then he looks up for permission. He gets a nod, and he strokes Poe’s thighs through the fabric of his pants. Slow, gentle strokes… and then up and into his crotch. He feels for the shape and size of him through his pants, fingers and thumb chasing the lines and stroking slowly. Poe moans, parting his legs, and tells him: “Oh yeah, baby, you keep - you keep doing just that, _just that_ , oh yeah…”

Do people always talk so much during sex? Kylo is barely saying a word. He knows his idea of sexy talk would be utterly terrible, so he spares the galaxy that, and instead slips his hand into Poe’s pants and holds his cock in there, instead. It feels similar to his own, if maybe a little shorter and wider. He strokes slowly, trapped in that fabric prison, and is unsurprised by the babbling happiness pouring from Poe’s mouth.

It’s almost too much to listen to, so he arches up to kiss him quiet, and feels a hand on the back of his neck pulling him tumbling onto his side. He keeps his hand stroking, and then there’s a hand in _his_ pants, and their wrists slide against the other as they slowly, carefully jerk off. 

“Damn, babe, you got one hell of a nice dick,” Poe tells him, and Kylo snorts.   


“You haven’t even seen it.” Not erect, anyway.

“Don’t need to. It’s yours, and plus, I can feel it. Tell me, Ky, you… know what you want?”  


“Other than: you?”  


Poe laughs, and kisses his nose. “Silly.”

“I… no. I don’t, I…” Maybe. No. No.   


Poe must sense his hesitation, because then he’s on his back and Poe is pulling his pants down and off. He does the same with his own, and boots, and socks, and Kylo peers down over his body to see the man crouching above it. His cock is proud and hungry, but there’s another hunger, too. He isn’t sure he dare ask. 

“I love it every which way,” Poe reassures him. “So… you got a preference, or something you wanna try, now’s the time to ask. I mean. For the first time.”  


First. Time. First, but also implying _more to come_. “I want to feel you inside me,” he says, and hopes that’s enough.

“I would be honoured to pop your cherry,” Poe says, hand on his heart. “Please, where do you keep the lube?”  


Kylo hates how suave he is. He does. “In the– yes, there.”

“Gonna make it so good for you,” Poe purrs, and pours out some lube onto his hand. “You touched yourself, baby?”  


“…not… there,” he admits, and resists the urge to cross his legs. He pulls his heels up towards his ass, tilts his waist as much as he can. “I thought about it, but I never did it.”  


“You gotta relax,” Poe tells him, and he moves to kneel between his legs. He slurps messy hands over Kylo’s cock, rubbing the lube there, first. It feels nicer than just a hand, and Kylo rocks up into it. “Don’t tense up. Remember this will feel good.”  


Kylo yelps when the fingers go lower. It’s a shock, and he’s not even penetrating him. He pants as the digits swirl around his hole, his mouth salivating as he grabs for Poe’s upper shoulders, holding on. 

“I’m okay,” he says. “I’m okay.”  


“You’re so damn hot, babe.” Poe bites his lip, hissing in approval as his finger slips in. “So hot. So tight. Gonna feel so good on my cock.”  


All this praise is making Kylo’s head swim, and he doesn’t know how to dodge it when there’s a literal finger in his ass. Pushing in and in and in, and swirling around. Making everything feel good, and hot, and fractious. He tries to ride that hand, and a broken sound of bliss erupts from his lips at how good it feels, and how beautiful his lover is. How he’s doing this for Kylo, how it’s wonderful and burning and perfect. He bounces up and down, calling out in wounded surprise as a second finger goes in.

“You like that? Don’t you? So ready, so happy, so eager. Gonna fuck the come right out of you, Kylo. Gonna make you scream my name. Look how happy you are, and it’s just my fingers. Think how happy you’re gonna be riding my dick.”  


Poe has a fucking awesome voice at the best of times, but now it’s just - it’s so fucking _wrong_ how good it sounds, saying nice things. Kylo’s jaw snaps, and then he tries to join in. “So… so _fuck_ me. Make me yours, Poe. Make me see why I waited all these years, because it was for you, and only you.”

“ **Damn** ,” Poe says, and then three fingers are inside, or five, or seventeen, or something.   


Kylo’s body is spreading open like an eye in the dark, and he moans brokenly at the rougher treatment. He rides Poe’s hand, and watches his face, and urges him on with just a look.

“I’m ready,” Kylo insists, and he would make sure he was, if he wasn’t. “Fuck me, Poe.”  


“Cushions,” Poe says, and they grab for them, making a little support for Kylo’s lower back.   


The taller man drops down onto them, and then he’s bare and open, waiting for Poe to love him, to love _in_ him. He’s bare from head to toe, his cock pink and lightly slicked, bobbing against his stomach, and he’s never felt more safe, more secure, more… loved… than he does right now.

A hand on one of his ankles, and then he’s falling more open, and there’s a cock between his legs. He managed the fingers fine, so this should… be fine, too? He bites his lip, eyes on Poe’s, as he starts to slowly push in.

“Oh… so good, babe. You feel so good. Does that make you feel good, too?”  


“Y-yes.” Weird, weird, but good. Full, stretching, satisfying, and right. Poe. Poe, inside of him. He slowly sinks in deeper, and Kylo now understands what he’s been craving all along. It just feels right, with Poe inside of him. Feels like he belongs there, like they belong together. “S-so good. So, so good.”  


“I love you,” Poe says, and it’s the first time he’s said it.  


Kylo smiles, as Poe doesn’t recognise what he said. Or, doesn’t show he did. He keeps moving in him, that speed both glorious and awful, and it drags over his insides and presses against things inside of him. He keeps moving, and Kylo is in heaven.

“I love you, too,” he answers.  


Poe did know he’d said it, because his eyes crinkle at the reply. Kylo feels a weight lift inside his chest, and then there’s kisses. Kisses, and kisses, and kisses.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes them to finish, it will always be too soon, and not quickly enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Could you write a fic where an awkward virgin Kylo tries to seduce/flirt with a flyboy Poe and fails epically all the time. But Poe is completely smitten with his awkward cuteness. And they should have sex, with a shy And responsive Kylo and a Poe that won't shut up about how good Kylo is. Bonus for sweet pet names and fluff as well as good smut. If you could do this, please? THANK YOU!!!


End file.
